


A different kind of itch

by twistedmiracle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bitty bottoms this time, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, I think I have a theme, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Boys, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: Senior year means Bitty and Jack have less free time together to just... be. They make it work.





	A different kind of itch

**Author's Note:**

> So much gratitude to my wonderful beta, SunshineAndaLittleFlour, who not only trusts me to help with the Brunch series, but then can turn around and help me out when I finally come up with something, myself. Sunny, thank you for the beta! And thank you also, for the the title! I like it lots better than mine! 
> 
> Any remaining errors are because I couldn't help myself to stop messing with it. (Dear reader, if you see a typo, feel free to tell me!)

Bitty blinks awake with the realization that his bladder is uncomfortably full. Jack’s little digital clock reads 2:44 am. He shouldn’t have had all that coffee today, probably, but he’d needed to finish that paper for Atley before he could get on the train to Providence. Biting back a sigh, he slips from the bed, careful not to wake Jack. At least he doesn't need more light. The pale glow of streetlights around the edges of the heavy curtains, plus the tiny bright points from the smoke detector, their phones and laptops, and the white noise machine, are together just enough to keep him from kicking the door jamb or tripping over his duffel bag.

He is also grateful that Jack’s beautiful condo is more than warm enough for him to pad naked to the bathroom, even in February. He normally goes to bed in sleep clothes of _some_ sort, but when he and Jack had arrived in the bedroom hours ago, cuddles had turned to kisses, which became hands under shirts, underpants discarded next to the bed, until Bitty found himself getting pounded into the mattress, just the way he had been hoping.

After sex, they usually used to go to the trouble of showering, before putting pajamas back on. But more and more often, they are choosing not to bother with anything more than a cursory cleansing. Thank you, Jesus, for dark towels, baby wipes, and keeping both a laundry hamper and a trash can next to the bed. 

Now that Bitty is a senior, captain of the hockey team, and writing a thesis, his and Jack’s schedules don't line up well enough for an overnight visit nearly often enough. Far less often, for certain, than when he’d been a junior the year before. Having sex and then following that up with cuddling naked, all night long, seems to ease some of the associated ache they have for one another. The more skin contact, the better, whenever it is an option.

Tonight is one of those nights, and Bitty reflects on it as he pees, rinses his hands, and sneaks quietly back toward Jack’s big, warm bed. Jack had been so gentle at first. Bitty hadn’t been able to arrive until after they had both eaten dinner, and they hadn’t seen one another for just over two long weeks. They’d wanted everything, but had both felt just slightly tentative and unsure. So they had both danced awkwardly around their mutual need, for several minutes, until Jack had finally confessed, blushing, that he kind of wanted to take Bitty to bed “now,” if that was all right.

That had been more than “all right.”

Nonetheless, Jack — perhaps feeling guilty about them missing a dinner out and a chance to catch up on everything and a snuggle on the couch while they increasingly ignored a movie — had been even more solicitous than usual. He’d spent almost too long preparing Bitty for his cock — kissing Bitty, sucking Bitty, leaving tiny bitten bruises here and there in places the Samwell team shouldn’t be able to see in the locker room unless they get quite nosy, indeed.

When Bitty bottoms, he prefers to come with Jack inside him. Somewhere between shortly before and immediately after Jack’s orgasm is best. And tonight, he’d eventually had to beg Jack to fuck him, before Bitty came in Jack’s mouth, writhing on Jack’s fingers.

When they had both come, Jack had grabbed the package of baby wipes, tidied them both, and ditched the towel, all without anyone even needing to get off the bed. Then he’d spooned up and around Bitty and they had both slipped quickly into a deep, sweet sleep. Bitty had fallen asleep so quickly he could barely recall trying.

Then, of course, some four hours later, his damn bladder had to wake him up.

Jack stirs and murmurs as Bitty slides back under the covers.

“Sshh, sweetpea,” Bitty whispers. “It’s two somethin’ in the mornin’. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm,” Jack says. It sounds like agreement, but he clutches Bitty close and runs one of those great big hands up and down Bitty’s back. His other hand finds its way into Bitty’s hair, scratching slowly at his scalp.

“So good to me,” Bitty whispers. He can’t let Jack’s kindness go unreciprocated, so he reaches around to scratch Jack’s shoulder, just where Jack loves it best. The rumbling, pleased mumble he hears reassures him he is doing it right.

“We should sleep,” Bitty says, half-hearted. But when Jack ignores him he doesn't protest again. The back rubbing and head-scratching feel so damn good. Bending his knees and putting his head on Jack’s chest to help Jack reach him more easily, Bitty makes himself even more comfortable with their cuddling, though he feels vaguely guilty about the sleep they should be getting.

Bitty’s all bent up now, half on Jack’s chest, half off to Jack’s side. His left arm is smashed between them and Jack’s chest is a little high off the bed, since Jack is just so ridiculously muscular. Jack must notice, because he offers Bitty a pillow to scrunch between Bitty’s left arm and the side of Jack’s chest. Bitty shoves it between them and they continue their adorations in even more comfort. From here, however, Bitty can’t easily reach Jack’s shoulder, so he moves to scratch or massage what he can reach: wide, strong chest. Scalp, if he stretches a bit. Arm, though that is moving.

“Hip?” Jack murmurs at him, and of course. Sometimes Jack’s stretch marks itch a bit, mostly in winter. He isn’t very diligent about lotion. So Bitty reaches down, wriggles, and scratches Jack’s closer hip — the one with more stretch marks. He also thinks it would probably be easier to reach. Even better, Jack starts rubbing his back closer to the shoulder, and that feels wonderful. Bitty sighs happily.

“Good?” Jack asked.

“So good,” Bitty agrees. “My shoulder’s been a little sore since I helped Chowder carry Farmer’s new couch up the stairs in the volleyball house.”

“Glad I can help,” Jack says, and kisses the back of Bitty’s head.

The minutes pass like taffy, stretching and compressing and delicious. Bitty can’t see the clock and doesn't want to. The sidewalks won’t be safe for a run at Jack’s usual time, as it had been snowing when Bitty arrived and is forecast to snow all night. Nonetheless, they planned to wake at six and head down to the gym in the building’s basement and use side-by-side treadmills for a good eight miles, at least, before breakfast. Bitty isn’t looking forward to it much, and staying awake for an hour in the middle of the night isn’t going to help with that at all.

But the vague sense that he wouldn’t enjoy his morning run is nowhere near enough to stop Bitty from enjoying Jack’s big hand in his hair, his other hand rubbing Bitty’s sore shoulder absently. It is nowhere near enough to entice Bitty away from Jack’s hands, and warmth, and attention.

“Little too much now. Other hip?” Jack says, sleepy and slow and loving, and Bitty doesn't mean to drag his arm just so across his boyfriend’s groin, but he does, and oh hell, Jack is hard.

Bitty isn’t, but he will be any second, because while he is scratching Jack’s other hip, he’s mostly using it as an excuse to drag the softest part of his forearm over Jack’s erection, over and over.

There’s a bit of pre-come on his forearm. 

Jack has moved his big, broad hand down, from Bitty’s shoulder, down to his ass. Bitty says nothing, but he does move, just a bit closer, and gives Jack a bit more access. It’s difficult to admit out loud, but he does love feeling Jack’s hands on his ass.

He manages to stay nearly silent, until Jack slips in a finger. Bitty is still pretty wet from four or five hours ago, as it happens. 

“Mm,” Jack says, sounding … smug? “Was hoping,” and he adds another finger.

Bitty can’t stand this tease any longer. He pulls himself off Jack’s torso, turns himself around — dislodging Jack’s fingers in the process — and straddles Jack. “You want?” he asks, all coyness abandoned. “Because I want to come.”

“Yes,” Jack says, his eyes suddenly fully open in the dark room, and his hands go to Bitty’s hips. It takes only a few adjustments before Bitty is sinking down onto Jack’s dick, and he lets out a small moan as he fills himself up. Jack groans just a bit and reaches for Bitty’s cock, now fully hard and leaking just a drop at the tip. Jack smears it around with his thumb and Bitty shudders, then starts to move. Up, then down. Around in a tiny circle. He reaches behind himself to roll Jack’s balls in his hand and Jack whines.

It’s such a beautiful sound.

“I love you,” Bitty says very quietly, though they don’t usually talk during sex. Jack says it sounds too much like bad porn dialogue and Bitty mostly agrees. But sometimes it can’t be helped. 

“I love you, too,” Jack whispers, then pulls Bitty down for a wet, slow kiss.

Bitty enjoys that kiss, but there’s a thick, hard cock deep into his ass and he needs to come already. So he rises up and sinks down fast and then Jack grabs his hips and thrusts up into him and it’s all Bitty can do not to wake the neighbors.

Jack is a genius, really, getting that white noise machine.

They’re fucking hard, now. Deep and tight and full and wet and Bitty feels his orgasm winding up his spine like a tightening spring. “Gonna come,” he manages to say. “Soon.”

“Kay,” Jack agrees, and tightens his hold on Bitty’s hips. “Then I will, too.”

Bitty whines and grunts through the last dozen or so thrusts. Jack’s cock is a perfect fit inside him. The fat head rubs against his prostate every other thrust. That little bend in the middle makes it feel even bigger than it is (and it is hardly small.) Bitty grabs his own dick in his fist and damn near attacks it, jerking hard at the top, aiming to catch his come in hand when it happens.

It happens. It happens and happens and happens and Bitty’s hand can’t manage it all because Jack is coming now, too. He’s fucking up into Bitty so hard that Bitty can hardly breathe for all the love and desire and pleasure and he’s lost his grip on his cock and accidentally put his slick hand on Jack’s chest so Jack doesn’t buck him right off. He might float up to the ceiling if Jack lets go of his hips. He probably won’t. He’s holding so tight there will surely be finger marks.

“So good,” Jack says, as he calms down. Bitty can feel come inside him, and it’s messy and gross and he giggles about it but even Jack knows Bitty honestly loves it, too. Knowing that he can do this. That _they_ can do this.

“Damn,” Jack says, and he sounds perfectly wrecked with sex and exhaustion. “We forgot the damn towel.”

“Oh darlin,” Bitty says, smiling and amused and so ridiculously happy. He pulls himself away from Jack just long enough to grab a dirty towel from the hamper next to the bed. It’s crusty but dry enough. He cleans himself up a bit then dabs at the wet spot in the bed. It isn’t bad at all, since they didn't need any more lube. Jack helps, using a wet wipe to clean his chest and Bitty’s thighs and ass.

“Don’t you start thinking we’ll be having a third go any time soon,” Bitty mock-scolds when Jack lingers on his ass.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Jack agrees. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“Oh, you,” Bitty says, smiling even broader, and they and the sheets are good enough now so they curl up in one another’s arms again.

“Six am, huh?” Bitty says. He caught sight of the clock when he’d grabbed the towel. “We’ve been at this for over an hour. It’s coming up on 4 am, you know.”

“Oh, fine,” Jack says, as though it were some terrible hardship. “We’ll sleep in, if you simply must.”

“I simply must,” Bitty agrees, and Jack reaches behind himself for the digital clock. He fusses with it briefly, then puts it back. 

“Nine, now,” he says. “Satisfied?”

“With you, baby?” Bitty says. “Always.”


End file.
